Dolores Payás

There are no muses whispering in my ear, no angels with celestial harps. My desk is usually a stage for fierce, all-out battles. I come and I go. I try to dissipate the fog in my mind. I swim in tea and coffee. I break my back, I stretch. I enslave my neurons. Together we trawl though the known and the unknown, in search of the exact noun, the right adjective, the image that can evoke an intense feeling, a light thought, a wild burst of laughter or a twisted smile. Oftentimes I fail, but in some cases I get what I want. And then the euphoria is indescribable. All manner of wonders come to the surface. Fire, passion, joy, tenderness, poetry. This is the state of grace that comes from the act of creation, pure and simple. I don’t think a more breathtaking emotion than this exists.

(web translation by Dominic Horsfall)